(LANDING AT THE MOUTH OF THE DERWENT, WORKINGTON) DEAR to the Loves, and to the Graces vowed, The Queen drew back the wimple that she wore; And to the throng, that on the Cumbrian shore Her landing hailed, how touchingly she bowed! And like a Star (that, from a heavy cloud Of pine-tree foliage poised in air, forth darts, When a soft summer gale at evening parts The gloom that did its loveliness enshroud) She smiled; but Time, the old Saturnian seer, Sighed on the wing as her foot pressed the strand, With step prelusive to a long array Of woes and degradations hand in hand -- Weeping captivity, and shuddering fear Stilled by the ensanguined block of Fotheringay! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A WINTER NIGHT by WILLIAM BARNES AN ODE TO HIMSELF by BEN JONSON TO A BIRD IN THE CITY by MATTHIAS BARR DINNER by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON IDYLL 7. OF HYACINTHUS by BION HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 18 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH |